


Life Choices

by keirajo



Series: The Decepticon Emperor and His Autobot Lover [8]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Battle, Engagement, Killing, M/M, Multi, Rough Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Torture, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keirajo/pseuds/keirajo
Summary: Everyone has big moments in their lives--of celebration, of growing up, of loss, of joy--but what happens when all these events lead to a single ending that may possibly change the way you live your lives?





	1. Engagements

Life Choices

 

 

_ Chapter One:  Engagements _

 

            The very last thing Hot Rod expected when he returned to Chaar was a message that was half a plea and half a demand to come to Earth _right away_.

            “I know you came all this way to see me, but……………I need to ask Sky Lynx for a ride to Earth,” Hot Rod said to Galvatron, when he found the Decepticon Leader waiting patiently in his office for him.   The flame-colored mech glyphed Sky Lynx not to leave yet and was trying to make his exit hasty and quick so that he could come back to Chaar quickly.

            “Yes.   _I know_.   Your human friend has called _and called **and called**_ begging for a connection to you right away,” Galvatron said with a sigh.   “I am glad you brought my Novablaze with you………..you may take my Stormbreaker with you this time, but I will _insist_ that my heir remains behind with me.”

            “Sire?”  Novablaze asked, curiously, looking up at Galvatron.

            “It is time to begin your training.   You can now transform, your frame is larger and more durable.   I wish to begin training you to fight and to one day assume duties of a similarity to my own,” Galvatron said firmly.   “Do not give your carrier grief because he is taking your sibling—he _must_ keep feeding her and so forth.  You are independent enough to remain with me, are you not?”  He asked, gazing down at the eldest of his offspring.

            “Yes, sire,” the little mech responded, dipping his head politely.   It would be yet one more time he was to be parted so distantly from Hot Rod— _but he resolved to be brave_.   He knew his sire was harsh and demanding, but………..he did look forward to seeing what _Galvatron_ could teach him, the things that Hot Rod could not.

            “You’re sure, Nova?”  Hot Rod asked, reaching down to rub his youngling’s helm, fondly.

            “ _Mmm_.   I can stay with sire.   You’re gonna take care of Stormy, right?   You don’t need me to help?”  Novablaze asked, looking up at Hot Rod and holding onto his carrier’s servo, gently.

            “I’ll be fine for a little bit.   I don’t think this trip will take too long,” Hot Rod answered.  “Galvatron, would you and Cyclonus speak with Captain Deszaras and see that some ships get space-worthy?   Soundwave and Deszaras can fill you in on _everything_ …………” he said softly, gazing up into Galvatron’s red glass-covered optics.

            “Understood, my little Prime,” Galvatron responded, nodding.   “My apologies that we do not have much time at the moment for the company of one another, I know how important that little fleshling is to you— _he_ was a large part of your life long before **_I_** was.”

            Hot Rod’s circuits warmed up at Galvatron’s sudden sense of kindness—or at least his _understanding_ of things.   He and Galvatron had definitely been changed by their Spark-bond over the years…………..also by their relationship………….and their children.   And Galvatron was right— _they were both better because of it all_.

            Galvatron was truly closer to being a real Emperor now than he was when Cyclonus pulled him from the plasma pools of Thrull.   And Hot Rod, while still suffering some anxiety at times, found he no longer wished to always die—as he once always hoped to.

            “And while I understand this trip to Earth shall likely _not require it_ —I do wish you to have a bodyguard still,” Galvatron finally said.   He’d hesitated a few times on making the suggestion, because he didn’t know how his little Autobot lover would take it.

            That was when the talk suddenly became awkward.   Because Hot Rod wasn’t sure how welcoming the Autobots could be towards a Decepticon—even one as amiable and understanding as someone like Sixshot was.   But _who else_ would he take that was incredibly strong and powerful enough to stand against any of Starscream’s potential forces………….?

            “If I might intrude, just a little………..?”  A new voice said, softly.

            Galvatron and Hot Rod looked towards the doorway to see a mech with colors of mainly blue and red, with a little white, standing at pretty much Hot Rod’s general height—and he had an Autobot brand on his chestplate.   Hot Rod looked puzzled…………..had a new Autobot come to Chaar while he was gone…………..?

            “I’m Star Saber—and this is _probably_ the first time you’ve seen me without my V-Armour, Hot Rod,” the mech laughed softly as he saw the puzzlement on the flame-colored mech’s faceplate.   “Des says that the re-fitting of the _Thunder Arrow_ and retrofitting of some transport ships here on Chaar will take a couple of weeks and I’m a bit on edge right now.   I’m the type that needs to be out _doing things_ , so……………if _you_ don’t mind, Lord Galvatron—I’ll be Hot Rod’s bodyguard on his trip to Earth?”  He asked, gazing at the Decepticon Leader firmly.

            “I can trust you to protect him?”  Galvatron responded, sensing a great power and skill in the mech, despite the fact that this Star Saber appeared to be shorter than him.

            “ _Yep_.   Don’t worry,” the heroic old Autobot chuckled.

            “ _But sire!_    Cari is _strong_ and can protect himself!”  Novablaze said, tapping his sire’s hip armour to get Galvatron’s attention.

            Hot Rod laughed softly when he saw Galvatron’s puzzled look.  “He saw me sparring with Springer—so, he _knows_ I can fight,” the flame-colored mech answered, grinning at Galvatron.   “But if it’s not _too much trouble_ , my Emperor…………when I come back to Chaar, would you mind training **_me_** , too?”   He asked.

            “ _Pfft_.   We _all_ know what sparring between you and I ends with,” Galvatron chortled softly.

            “This time, I’ll be _super-serious_ about it.   Though……………it _may_ still end with that, too,” Hot Rod laughed.   “I want to be able to meet you on _even ground_ again……………. ** _one day_**.   Back like in the days when the Emperor and the Prime challenged one another………………” the flame-colored mech murmured.

            Galvatron gave a wolfish grin and poked his forefinger in the center of Hot Rod’s forehead.   “Then fix _this_ , too.   When you return—return to your sessions with Mindwipe and work on what is **_in here_** ,” he said, his voice a firm command.

            “ _I will, **I promise**_ ,” Hot Rod said, smiling at Galvatron.   Then he pulled Stormbreaker from her sling and she looked around sleepily.   He placed the little femme in her sire’s arms.  “Stormbreaker—say hello and good-bye to your sire……………we’ll be gone a bit longer but we’ll come back soon.   You be good for your sire, Novablaze,” he added, kneeling and hugging the young mech beside him.

            “I will, cari!”  The small purple-and-yellow mechling said, brightly.

            “My little Stormbreaker, how fares you?” Galvatron chuckled, smiling down at the femmeling yawning in his arms.   He raised a servo to rub the side of her helm fondly.   She grabbed one of his fingers and held onto it tightly, yawning again, before gurgling a soft little bit of baby nonsense.   “Has she been much trouble for you?   Has she still been clinging to you?”  The Emperor of the Decepticons asked softly, moving his finger a little to keep her holding onto it with more focus.

            “Sometimes, _yeah_.   I _really_ scared her, I think……….it’ll take a while for her bad recharge dreams to subside,” Hot Rod responded nodding at his powerful lover.   He cuddled the femmeling gently as Galvatron handed her back to him, slipping her back into her carrying sling, where she went back into recharge right away—though it took a few moments to try and get her to let go of the Decepticon Leader’s finger.

            “ _Mmm_.  I hope that your trip to Earth goes well,” Galvatron responded, his voice softer and without its normal daily edge.

            “Are you all right, Galvatron?”  Hot Rod asked, quietly, looking up into the Decepticon Leader’s faceplate.   He was very worried at the softer tone in Galvatron’s voice right now.

            “I am fine.   Seeing you here reminds me of what I might have lost.   And I know I must try harder to deal with Starscream, so he is unable to try again,” the purple-and-grey mech answered softly.   “It gives me far too much to dwell upon—and you know that is not in my general skill set.”

            “I _won’t_ be as careless next time,” Hot Rod promised.  He hadn’t fully recharged his weapons charges then, because he hadn’t needed them in a very long time—now he knew he _needed_ to keep better maintenance on his weapons at all times.   “But I can’t predict an unlucky moment like last time.”

            “I understand.   Novablaze, say farewell to your carrier and your sibling,” Galvatron said, hefting his son up and placing the young mech on his shoulders in a fashion he’d never carried his offspring in before.

            “’Bye, cari!   ‘Bye Stormy!”  Novablaze said, gazing down at Hot Rod and waving, one hand holding gently onto one of the tines of Galvatron’s crowned helm.

            Galvatron walked out of the room, ducking his shoulders and murmuring to Novablaze to duck when they went through doorways.   Hot Rod smiled fondly after them…………..he was actually really proud of Galvatron wanting to take time to spend with his eldest offspring.   He hoped it went well for them—he knew Cyclonus would be around to keep Galvatron from getting too frustrated and angry, but he felt Galvatron’s ire would never turn upon his precious Novablaze.

            “He is weirdly sweet to you,” Star Saber chuckled warmly.

            “I know, it’s really scary sometimes,” Hot Rod laughed, turning them both in the direction of leaving the embassy and hopping aboard Sky Lynx.

            The trip, at Sky Lynx’s fastest pace, took about four hours.   They landed outside of the area of Metroplex’s surroundings, so that Hot Rod and Star Saber could walk to the Autobot city and embassy here on Earth.   Sky Lynx said he was going to run Springer and Arcee back to Cybertron, along with the Autobot named Quickswitch.   The others Hot Rod had found chose to stay on Chaar—including the Autobot construction crew, who claimed they wanted to apprentice with the Constructicons and further the skills of their trade.   Of course the Decepticons that had been found all chose to stay on Chaar, only Metalhawk chose to stay on Chaar for reasons other than brands and allegiances—he chose to stay with Fangry, whom he felt would be more at home around the Decepticons than the Autobots.   Slipstream asked to stay at the embassy and see what it was like—until Hot Rod got back and she could talk to him some more.

            Star Saber hefted a pack on his back, which held the compressed form of his V-Armour.   He walked beside Hot Rod as they made their way to the main entrance of Metroplex, looking around appraisingly.   “It seems they have _too much pollution_ here on this little world,” the old Autobot hero murmured.   His olfactory sensors had scented and tasted the bitterness of smog and burned ozone.

            “It’s true, we’ve _tried_ to help with a cleaner source of energy, but they’re very attached to their fossil fuels and the like,” the young flame-colored mech answered.   “Those will run out soon enough, so I hope we’ll be able to wean them from it one day.”

            “Keep working at it, as I understand it—they are a _young species_.   They haven’t learned to have the patience that most organic species in the universe have developed,” the blue-and-red mech chuckled.  “Once they’ve been out in the universe a bit more and can break from their self-centric views, they’ll understand the damage they’ve done to their world.”

            “ _Yeah_.   So, this is Metroplex—he is an Autobot as well, but generally prefers to rest in his city mode,” Hot Rod said as they stopped right outside the entrance.  “Hey Metroplex, how’re you doing?   This is Star Saber,” he introduced when he looked up and saw a camera sensor focus down on them.

            “I do well, Prime,” the old city answered.   “It is an honor to meet you, Star Saber.”

            “It is an honor to meet you, as well, Metroplex,” the old hero responded, dipping his shoulders in a formal bow.

            The entrance slid open and the two Autobots walked into the depths of the city.

            “I should be safe in the city, so………….feel free to walk around as I go to find Daniel and see what he wants,” the flame-colored mech said with a warm smile.   “Metroplex, make sure that Star Saber gets proper introductions throughout the city, okay?”

            “Understood, Prime,” the city responded.   The city-mech had never stopped referring to Hot Rod as Rodimus Prime—and while he once found it weird, given a potential future, Hot Rod realized he should make himself used to that again.

            Hot Rod walked down to one of the conference rooms, that Daniel said he would be in.   He had to admit a little bit of anxiety—Daniel _never_ made demands of Hot Rod and had always been easy-going, friendly and accommodating.   He hoped there wasn’t any health issues with his human “ _little brother_ ” or the Witwicky family in general.   Humans were much more fragile than Transformers in that sense…………and Hot Rod definitely understood that—more than most Transformers did.

            “Hey Danny, I’m here, what’s up?”  Hot Rod asked as he entered the conference room and saw Daniel sitting on the edge of the massive table made more for Autobots than for humans.

            Daniel had a bit of a beard-stubble on his chin now—it was a little bit strange to see that on his young human friend.   Every time he saw Daniel now, the little boy was more and more of an adult.   But he was really well-built, which the young man attributed to learning karate and tai’chi over the majority of his teenage life.   He went out and jogged, ate well and exercised plenty………..he was a really good specimen of a young male human being.

            “Sit, big bro…………got some important news for you,” Daniel chuckled, motioning at a chair beside where he was sitting on the table.  “Is that Stormbreaker you’ve got there in that sling?”  He asked, grinning at Hot Rod.

            “Yeah, she’s sleeping a lot.  We had some stressful moments out on the frontier and we’re getting close her first year—I wonder if the sleeping a lot has more to do with her first growth spurt rather than her fright that she suffered, I’ll know more once I let Hook take a look at her at the clinic,” Hot Rod responded, smiling at Daniel and patting a servo gently over the femmeling strapped to his chest.   “You okay, Danny?”  Hot Rod asked, a little bit of worry in his vocalizer.

            “I’m fine, big bro,” Daniel laughed warmly.   “ _I’m getting married!_ ”   He suddenly blurted out.

            Hot Rod was suddenly taken aback.   He **_knew_** the term and such, if only from all the television and movies that he watched while on Earth.   He knew Daniel’s parents were married and that there was probably some sort of formal ceremony…………but he’d never _personally_ seen one.   But he knew it was something adult humans did—so it really sent home the fact that his little human brother was all grown up and an adult now.

            “I proposed to Amber while we were out to dinner with my parents almost a month ago—I’d planned to do it sometime, but at the dinner was pretty spontaneous,” the young man laughed warmly, he held up his smartphone and played the video his mom recorded at the restaurant.

            “ _Awwww_ ………….that’s **_so sweet_**!   I’m _really happy_ for you, Danny!”  The flame-colored mech gushed, truly happy for his very best of all friends.   “ _So_ …………you could’ve i-mailed me this or waited until I got back and settled in to call me, why’d you need me to come?”   He asked.

            “Because _you’ve_ never actually met Amber,” Daniel said, waving the hand to punctuate his sentence with his phone at Hot Rod even as he sent a text message.  He’d pretty much just started dating her around the time Hot Rod was still Rodimus Prime and would sometimes be on Earth for things—he had been seeing her for a bit over a year before the hate plague incident.  But he knew his Autobot big brother may not remember, since Daniel had dated a number of girls back then.   “This is Amber Krueger—as you might remember, we’ve been dating for like………..the past four years now,” he said pointing towards the doorway, which had just slid open.

            Hot Rod turned the chair to see a young human female………..who he knew was about Daniel’s age, since they met in high school.   She was _not_ a model, she was _very normal_ …………….she had a little bit of weight to her, but not overweight— _she definitely wasn’t anorexically skinny!_ —her hair was shoulder-length and colored a vivid reddish-blonde.   A dash of freckles were splashed on her cheeks and she wore a cute pair of glasses.   So, even while Daniel was impressively handsome, Amber was very plain and cute—so, he knew Daniel was _completely serious_ about dating her and loving her………..he **_wasn’t_** enamoured of her “ _sexy, good looks_ ”, he loved her heart and her spirit.

            “I’m glad to finally meet you, Amber,” Hot Rod said, kindly, leaning down and reaching a servo down to hold his hand out to the young woman.  “As you know, I’m Hot Rod—I’m sure Danny’s told you _a billion_ horror stories about our friendship.”

            “ ** _So_** many of them,” she chuckled, lightly placing her small human hand on a couple of his fingers.   “I’m glad to meet you, too, Hot Rod.”

            The flame-colored mech offered to help her up to the table, so she could sit next to Daniel.   They held hands and it looked really super-sweet.  Hot Rod was really very happy for his human little brother.

            “ ** _So_** …………. _the wedding_ , we’ve been thinking about a year away or like that, but I know you’ve got the grand opening of your entertainment district on Chaar coming up within a year, as well,” Daniel began.   “So, I’d like to plan a time for us to have the wedding that doesn’t interfere with that……..”

            “ ** _Oh_** , but…………..this is _your_ wedding, you should have it whenever **_you want to_** ,” Hot Rod said, pleased that his human best friend was being so considerate, but he didn’t want this big thing postponed because of him.

            Daniel gave him a serious look and waggled a finger at him.  “ _Don’t_ give me that—I can’t plan a date if my best man can’t be there………….though I should probably say _‘best mech’_ , eh?”  He chuckled.

            Again, Hot Rod was taken aback by his very best friend in the universe.   Of course, his only association with “ _best man_ ” had to do with mostly all those comedies he’d watched and ridiculous things happened with the best man to any wedding in these shows, _almost ruining the wedding_!   The very last thing Hot Rod wanted to do was to ruin something that was a really big thing for a human!

            “You sure you don’t…………. _you know_ ……….. want a human who knows about what this means and stuff?”  Hot Rod asked, nervously.  “I don’t want to wreck anything for you, Danny…………… _this is super-important_!”

            “You **_can’t_** ruin anything by being your normal and honest self, big bro,” the young man chided, shaking his head gently at the flame-colored mech.   “Don’t worry—dad and I will help you out on what you need to do for this.   And we’re having the ceremony on Athenia—we’re gonna deck out that canyon, since it’s the only place large enough that can hold both Transformers and humans!”

            Hot Rod chuckled and nodded.  “I’ll do my best, Danny…………..” he said, firmly.

            “Oh, you do get a _plus one_ invite to the wedding—so you can bring _Galvatron_ if you want,” Daniel laughed.

            “ _Oh Primus, no!_    Daniel Witwicky………….do you **_want_** this wedding to become a disaster?!”  Hot Rod groaned.  Then he laughed along with the two humans who were laughing heartily.


	2. Education

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galvatron teaches Novablaze some basics of combat--with assistance from Cyclonus, of course.

_ Chapter Two:  Education _

 

            Novablaze sat on a large rock with his legs folded under him, eagerly watching Cyclonus and Galvatron spar.   He never realized his sire could merely “ _play-fight_ ”, but had a feeling it was more or less for _instruction purposes_ , for the young purple mech’s benefit. 

            Galvatron had begun the instruction with “ _throws_ ”.   He had Cyclonus assist him on showing Novablaze how to use an opponent’s momentum to throw them away in a fight—then he showed his young spawn how to “ _be thrown_ ” in a fight, landing so that you were **_not_** injured if an opponent threw you.

            “It is a difficult thing to anticipate losing ground in combat, if you are confident in your skills—however, you must _always_ be prepared for the inevitable,” Galvatron explained, dusting off his servos and picking Cyclonus up by one of his wings a bit roughly.   “Your carrier used to use my weight and momentum against me _all the time_ in combat—he was able to throw me far more often than I _should have allowed him to_.   So, this fact is **_not_** to be underestimated—no matter the size or strength of an opponent, there is the chance that you may be thrown by them.”

            Cyclonus frowned and brushed his servos on his armour to clean it up a little bit before the next combat situation lesson.   He disliked contemplating that anyone could be more powerful than his great emperor, Galvatron, but it had been proven time and again that his lord _always_ lost his cool combat skills when in a fight with the Prime—and Rodimus Prime would _almost always_ win, unless he actually _allowed_ Galvatron to win.    It was not a truth the treasured lieutenant of the Decepticon Empire enjoyed, but it was a truth nonetheless.

            “That also presents the opportunity to throw your opponent.   Conflicts may become heated, your opponent may lose sight of their goal,” Galvatron continued, placing the right arm with his nova cannon’ servo on his hip and then made motions while speaking with his left servo.   “Again, **_this_** is a thing that I have fallen prey to far too many times and wish to keep striving to _correct myself_ upon.   It would please Cyclonus greatly if I would _stop surrendering to my emotions_ while I am fighting an enemy,” he continued, chuckling and grinning over at Novablaze.

            “Indeed, my lord,” Cyclonus responded, giving the ghost of a smile towards his ruler.

            “I understand.   But is it tricky to try and recover from a throw?   Sire, you are _so large_ and it must be strange to be thrown so easily!”   Novablaze asked, nodding at Galvatron’s words explaining throws.

            “ _True_.   But it shows the true skills of your carrier in his ability to do so,” the purple-and-grey mech chuckled, fondly.   He relished combat with his younger lover.   And while he missed the days when Hot Rod was Rodimus Prime—the smaller version of his Prime had proven a new type of adeptness in combat and _that_ , too, pleased Galvatron upon many an instance.   “If you are thrown—then you are at the mercy of gravity, whatever the gravity may be where you are at.   We have _little gravity_ here on Chaar, it is merely enough to keep us all safely on the ground as we walk.   However, you can aid gravity in recovering from a throw—by understanding the weight of your very own frame, as well as its shape.   Use your understanding of your very frame to turn while being thrown, so that you may try as best as possible to land upon your pedes.”

            “Lord Galvatron is correct.   As one with a flight frame, you have some _slight differences_ than one such as our lord—your frame will have a _lighter_ feel to it,” Cyclonus said, firmly, as Galvatron glanced at him to see if his lieutenant had anything more to add to the lesson.  “Your wings, which are _glorious_ for flying, may hinder you in recovering from a throw—they will make your body twist and turn awkwardly.   Therefore, _use your boosters_ —the ones upon your back as well as in your pedes—to try and control the motion and direction of the throw.   This would be so that your body does not keep spinning while in the air,” the serene Second-in-Command of the Decepticons explained.

            “Cyclonus?   Will **_I_** be able to fly like you and sire, too?   With my thrusters and _not just only_ in my alt mode?”  Novablaze asked, unfolding his legs and sitting on his aft, kicking his pedes on the rock.

            Galvatron looked like he started to want to say something, but then went into a “ _hmmmm_ ” motion, cupping his chin thoughtfully.   It was a necessary question that _deserved_ an answer.  Most of the Decepticons—with their military hardware coding, had special thrusters in their pedes and boots, which allowed them to fly in their primary modes.   However, the Autobots did not generally have this particular gift.   Novablaze was a hybrid in frame and coding of both Autobot and Decepticon.   Coding was not in the medics’ specialties, so neither First Aid nor Hook had assessed whether Novablaze was born with the military hardware or the consumer goods coding—or whether Novablaze had something completely new that was not specifically to the coding of either line.

            It made Galvatron wonder _whom_ he could ask, to learn about the coding and see what his youngling had within himself.

            “Cyclonus, I do not believe I can answer this question,” Galvatron responded with a deep sigh.

            “I am uncertain of how to answer as well, but perhaps we can try a test, my lord?”  Cyclonus said.   “Young lord Novablaze, please come over here,” he said, motioning to the youngling.

            The young purple mech hopped off of the rock and ran excitedly over to the two taller and older purple-colored mechs.   He gazed up at them, beaming with excitement.

            “My lord Galvatron, please pick Novablaze up like so,” he said, gently reaching down to grip the youngling firmly under the arms and around the chest armour piece of his form.   He did not pick the youngling up, but merely made the motion to show what he wished Galvatron to do.

            Novablaze held out his arms so that his sire’s large purple servos could grip him firmly where Cyclonus had directed a few moments ago.   Galvatron easily lifted his spawn and held the youngling up in front of him.

            “Young lord, will you try to see if your boot thrusters work?”  Cyclonus asked, tilting his head and watching carefully.

            “ _’Kay_ ,” Novablaze said with a little giggle.   His sire had never lifted him up like this before, though his carrier had upon many an occasion.   He concentrated and managed to get a good thrust going with his boot thrusters.   He waved his legs, feeling how they seemed lighter with the thrust going.

            “Lord Galvatron, will you slowly release your grip on Novablaze?”   Cyclonus directed.

            Galvatron nodded, very carefully loosening his grip on his youngling, but keeping his servos very close in case he needed to catch his spawn.   Novablaze seemed to hover for a few brief moments before he tilted forwards and Galvatron swiftly reached out to grab the youngling before he fell forwards and tumbled awkwardly to the ground.

            “It is _a start_ ,” Cyclonus said, a little bit of pride in his voice.   Being an aerial mech, he reveled in the joy of flight—whether in his primary mode or his alt mode.   He would very much welcome _another aerial mech_ into the folds of the Decepticon Empire.

            Galvatron gently set Novablaze back down upon the ground.   “Well, with all of that having been dealt with—I should very much like to see _your alt mode_ , my Novablaze!”  The Decepticon Leader said proudly.   He motioned to Cyclonus and the two of them backed away to give the youngling plenty of room to transform.

            Novablaze changed into his small space-jet form.   His alt mode was likely small, because he was yet small—it would quite possibly become bigger once he had achieved his full size and bulk.   Galvatron noticed the compact-ness of the space-jet form.  It was not long, like Astrotrain’s shuttle form—the body of the jet was more compressed.   If he were to fit beings into his alt mode, it would only be possibly a pilot and co-pilot—no passengers.   The wings were broad, like Astrotrain’s shuttle-mode wings, though.

            “May I _fly_ for you, sire?   Cyclonus?”   The youngling asked, eagerly.

            “ _Yes_ , please do, my Novablaze!”  Galvatron said proudly, as Cyclonus merely smiled and nodded in affirmation.

            Novablaze took off, flew back and forth a few times around the area—though nowhere near as fast as when he’d been trying to save Hot Rod back on Teru.   He added a few spiral spins and loops to his flight—just to see if he could impress his sire and Cyclonus.   Then he landed and transformed back into his primary mode, gazing eagerly up at the older two purple-colored mechs.

            “You seem to have a _truly fine grasp_ of how to utilize your alt mode, I am _very proud_ of you, my spawn!”  Galvatron said, grinning excitedly down at the youngling.

            “It just seems to _be natural_ …………like my…….my weapons………” Novablaze answered, shuffling his pedes a little embarrassed.

            “ _Weapons?_    You have subspace pocket weapons?   Please display them for me, I wish to see!”  Galvatron responded with growing excitement, folding his arms across his chest and smiled down at his youngling fondly.

            Novablaze looked at his left arm and kind of just shook his wrist a little bit to open the subspace pocket and quickly grabbed the sword that appeared.   It was rather large for his smaller size right now, but it would be a normal-sized sword for a full-grown mech.   He had no trouble hefting it though, because although he’d never known it, but he was always _very strong_ for his size and age.   He kind of swung it around a little in a pattern and, then, brought himself to a ready fighting stance.

            “ _Ah_.   A close combat weapon, _very nice_ ,” Galvatron chuckled.

            “You seem to know how to use it quite well, young lord,” Cyclonus added, giving an encouraging smile down at the youngling.   “Do you have a preferred servo to hold it in, or can you use it in either servo?”   The Decepticons’ Second-in-Command inquired, curiously.   He had noticed that it was in the left-arm’s subspace pocket, beneath the wrist-guard emblem on his armour, but the youngling grabbed it in his right servo and switched servos midway through the motions with the sword.

            “Either, I think.   I don’t seem to feel awkward with either servo,” the young purple-colored mech responded, grinning up at Cyclonus.   “But if I use the laser, I need to have it in my left servo, ‘cause the laser’s in the right arm subspace pocket………….” he added.

            “ _Show me_ ,” Galvatron said, an eager grin spreading across his lips, briefly showing the points of his incisor dentae.

            The wrist-guard emblem popped up and a dual-barreled small laser could be seen.   Cyclonus chuckled, realizing that weapon was very much like Hot Rod’s wrist-piping.   He looked over at his lord and master and then made a motion at Novablaze.   “It is much like the Prime’s, however, it is possible he _may_ be able to channel through subspace alternative sources of energy as you do, my Emperor,” he explained when Galvatron glanced at him, curiously.   “I do not think it would be an unlikely ability, as you have been informed of his special Spark.   However, I am not certain how we can teach him exactly what subspace energies can be tapped and channeled.   For a while yet, he may have to charge his weapons systems as the Prime does for his arm-piping lasers.   _You_ , my lord, channel the super-plasma energy from Thrull and whatever similar planets and the sun which are in that system—as you had been there for a time, but _before that_ the power was granted from the one who reformatted us,” the loyal lieutenant explained even further.

            “These are things I _do not understand_ , Cyclonus,” Galvatron groaned, a bit of annoyance in his vocalizer, especially when Unicron was mentioned even when not by his specific name.

            “That is why you have _me_ , is it not?”  The purple-colored aerial mech responded, dipping his shoulders humbly at his Emperor.   “My lord, there are _many days ahead_ that we can spend teaching young Novablaze about combat and, later on, about ruling in your stead when you are not here.   There is no need to rush through everything _before_ the Prime gets back—after all, he also asked to be taught more combat skills, did he not?”   Cyclonus responded, smiling softly.   It would be much more _to his benefit_ to let Galvatron go all out against Hot Rod, _rather than him_ —Novablaze would learn more about the variance of combat and difference in types of opponents by watching his speedy carrier and his powerful sire do battle against one another.

            Cyclonus would just have to ensure that the _collateral damage_ was kept to a minimum between the Emperor and the one who was once a Prime.

            And _that_ also meant hiding the innocent young Novablaze’s optics from the **_probably_** erotic end that combat between Galvatron and Hot Rod would also lead to!

            _As it always, **inevitably** , did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a Decepticon/Destron-heavy "life" chapter set of shorts to prepare for "Burn Brightly". So the next two chapters will feature bad guys and Decepticons quite a lot. It'll end with a Galvatron/Hot Rod chapter, as always, to lead in to "Burn Brightly". :)
> 
> Everything I'm preparing for "Burn Brightly" is going to make it a REALLY long 'fic, perhaps the longest yet.........there's a lot that's going to happen. XD


	3. Enchained

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leozak is ultimately loyal..........and he can't think of any other way to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as brutal as I could've made it, but...........some roughness in interfacing present. Just FYI.

_ Chapter 3:  Enchained _

           

            After all, he owed his very existence to Starscream and Raj-ur-Malekk—so Leozak rarely complained of the “ _other things_ ” they asked him to do, besides his duties as a soldier.   It ran the gamut from doing janitorial work, to testing out a torture device, to fragging itself.   He didn’t mind it, really.   He didn’t feel much of the pain from the torture machines, nor did he feel any discomfort from the interfacing via his aft opening.

            _Until now_.

            His new sensor array seemed **_so_** ultra-sensitive.

            He was crying, but unable to speak with the gag in his mouth and his vocalizer offline.

            There was certainly no pity in the Quintesson biologist—who seemed to not care about anything whatsoever.   He treated the Destrons and, even Starscream, in the same way—people who wandered in and out of his life, so he felt no need to form attachments.   The Quintesson seemed to find them all amusing—and something to kill a bit of time in his long life.   He appreciated all the Decepticons who’d joined their growing army, because he could observe the millennia long adaptations that the Master Programmer had made in their systems.   That was why he was working on retrofitting the original task force he created for Starscream—Leozak and the others—with new sensor arrays and other enhancements that would make them resemble more modern Transformers.

            And Starscream?   **_He_** had no sympathy or empathy either.   He _only_ had revenge in his Spark and no room for anything else.   And he had all that childish desire to possess things that he often complained of Megatron (or Galvatron) of being at fault of.

            _Sometimes_ it made Leozak long for something else, something more, but his loyalty programming was firm and kept him at the whims of Raj-ur-Malekk and the former Decepticons’ Second-in-Command.   It just _wouldn’t be right_ to turn against the ones who gave him both a life and purpose.

            “I’m not certain he can handle it,” Starscream murmured, seeing the optical fluid streaming from the microfissures around the red optic glass of his subordinate.   The red-and-blue mech leaned over and swiped a couple of fingers beneath the teal-and-white mech’s chin and pulled the gaze up towards his own faceplate.   “I wonder if the array’s _too sensitive_ now?”  The former Decepticon scientist murmured, curiously, standing up straight once more.

            “ _Mmmmm_.   I may need to tweak it more before we add it into Hellbat and the remaining members of our strike force,” Raj-ur-Malekk murmured, hovering over and bringing one of his tentacle arms down to cup Leozak’s chin and bring the mech’s gaze up to him.   “Shall we end tonight’s session, Leozak?”  The Quintesson asked, gazing dispassionately down at the teal-and-white mech.

            Leozak shuttered his optics and their glow went dim as he slowly managed to nod his head.   Raj-ur-Malekk used his other tentacle arm, with its adaptive finger-like ends, to reach into the mech’s mouth and pull the gag out.   The vocalizer-suppressor eased its pressure off of Leozak’s vocalizer and he was able to make rough, quiet sounds again.

            “My………… _my apologies_ , Lord Malekk and Lord Starscream,” Leozak murmured, his voice barely able to be heard.   “I am sorry I’m not strong enough for this……….” he whispered, a bit of sadness in his vocalizer.

            The Quintesson biologist _gave him life_ —and he could very easily take it away.   Scrap him and start over if he felt Leozak were not up to the quality he desired from a Transformer.   Leozak _didn’t_ want to die— _he didn’t want his new life taken away from him_ —so he suffered as best as he could to _prove_ he was worthy of living!   The others, Hellbat and Killbison and all of them, _they_ didn’t see the bigger picture—not like Leozak did.   They just lived their lives with their little quirks and desires, they didn’t know that if they failed in living the way their masters wanted them to live, they could be scrapped and replaced.

            “It may just be that Leozak can’t handle torture devices as easily and as greedily as Flamewar can,” Starscream said, folding his arms across his chest and gazed at his Quintesson partner.   “It _truly is_ an acquired taste, you know?   And some mechs—or femmes—are simply not suited to that part of the darker pleasures.    _This_ is what you get for giving them individuality and personalities,” the Destron Commander chuckled, a sly grin crossing his faceplate.

            “ _Nnngh_.   I suppose you are correct upon that point.   A good example is the difference between Rawjaw and my other Sharkticons.   The majority are brute clones, but Rawjaw is unique and I created him that way to be guard and assistant,” Raj-ur-Malekk responded, hovering over to a table and dropping his implements upon it with a clatter and clang.   “There are pros and cons to creating your army either way, so I suppose we shall merely need to adapt to the fact that our strike force has unique needs and desires.”

            Leozak ducked his head, feeling miserable—they were even speaking about him as if he weren’t in the room.   Saying that it was _beneficial he was unique_ , but also saying it made him **_a failure_**.   How could he show them he was worthy to live—to maintain the reputation as the strike force commander that they gave him the position of?

            “My lords, _I am so sorry_!   Is there **_anything_** I can do?”   Leozak asked, desperately, trying to get to his pedes, although his nerves to the legs and arms had not completely brought feeling back into them yet.

            “You are fine, child,” Raj-ur-Malekk chuckled, hovering over to pat the teal-and-white mech on top of his helm.   “It has been a long time since I worked on your species and there is a definite learning curve to it nowadays.   I am merely trying to make you the strongest species possible.   Being able to stand up to the greatest in tortures will allow you to endure any pain in battles—pain which might make others crumble before you.”

            “I—I understand,” Leozak murmured, submissively.

            “You may come and attend me tonight—if you feel interfacing is within your capabilities for the evening?”  Starscream chuckled.

            “I shall get cleaned up immediately for you, Lord Starscream,” the teal-and-white mech said, hastily, still trying desperately to get to his pedes.

            Starscream roared with laughter.   It was worth it to keep Leozak the way he was—he was a capable soldier and a loyal minion.   The Destron Commander enjoyed playing with the relative newmech and it was rather fun to teach him how to be sexually active even with only the portion of the interface array that he had to use.   There was something of an innocence to Leozak that Starscream hadn’t seen in a mech in a very long time…………. _not since Skyfire_.   And **_that_** was a long time ago, indeed.

            “Never you mind, I will take you there myself.   Having fun in the washracks can be a pleasant diversion from your pain,” Starscream said, chuckling deviously.   He reached down and threw the same-sized mech over his shoulder easily.   It was no issue with his greater strength that Raj-ur-Malekk had put into his new frame—something that would put him on an equal footing with Galvatron’s crazy strength.

            “My apologies, commander,” Leozak murmured, staring at the floor, his chin bouncing on the centerpiece between Starscream’s wings, on his back.

            “My dear partner is far too old and has forgotten why they gave us individual A.I.,” Starscream responded as they arrived at his quarters and he immediately propped Leozak against the wall beneath the shower bar.   “ _You_ are an individual, just as Flamewar is—your method of creation is merely different.   She enjoys torture, but you have a…….. _mmm_.   I do not want to say _‘kindness’_ , but you have a sense of respect within you.   A respect for life, one might say in definition—it gives you a sharper sense of honor and loyalty.   It makes you _different_ than a Vector Sigma born creation like Flamewar, but it also makes you different from your fellow strike force members.   Hellbat is unruly and disruptive—the complete opposite of you, which is why the two of you do not get along well.  Gaihawk is moody and you respond by trying to give him tasks to perform, yet he grumbles and does it anyways.”

            “Lord Starscream,” Leozak murmured, shyly looking over his commander’s bold and stylish frame.   “ _Frag me? **Please**?_”   The teal-and-white mech begged as Starscream’s left servo reached out to turn on the shower faucet.

            “Well, _of course_ , but let’s get you clean before we get you dirty again, _mmm_?”  The Destron Commander chortled softly.   He grabbed a scrubbing cloth and put a dollop of cleansing gel in the center of it.   Then he lifted a cup to the mech’s lips.   “Rinse and spit, please,” he chuckled.

            The water began coursing along their frames making them seem to shine beneath the lights in the ceiling.   Leozak swirled the mouth rinse inside for a few moments and then turned his head to spit it out and watched the frothy blue-white swirl down the drain.  Just then Starscream’s right servo landed roughly on his chest and he began scrubbing the cloth all over it—some circular strokes broad and soft, others rough and small.   The teal-and-white mech trembled and a light mewling sound erupted from his lips.

            Starscream tilted his head with a sly grin.   _This_ was normal sensory response from the mech, so it must merely be that with the new sensor array, Leozak simply couldn’t handle pain and torture above a certain level.   He made a mental note of it, so that he could share his observations with his Quintesson partner later on.

            “ _Around_ , Leozak,” the red-and-blue mech chuckled, twirling his left servo in a circular motion.   He added more cleansing gel to his scrubbing cloth and planted it to the other mech’s back as soon as Leozak had turned around and braced his hands on the wall.   More trembling and mewling came from the teal-and-white mech, as well as a soft snapping sound, telling Starscream the mech’s spike panel had come open.   “Well, you **_do_** enjoy it from behind,” he responded with a grin, scrubbing Leozak’s back roughly and fondly.

            As Starscream brought the cloth down over the mech’s aft, he hovered and swirled the scrubbing cloth lightly over the aft opening—which was wide and raw with the toys used upon him tonight.   He brought the cloth over his two forefingers and then pressed them into the widened opening.  Leozak gave a stifled and embarrassed cry, then his hips swayed and gently began to rock back against Starscream’s fingers.

            “ _Nope_ , there is definitely **_no problem_** with your sensor array,” Starscream laughed, reaching up with his left servo and patted Leozak’s helm fondly.   “It just looks like you have a definite pain threshold.”

            “ _Fragmefragmefragmefragmefragme_ …………” Leozak panted, desperately, wanting to feel more than just the aerial mech’s fingers up inside his aft.   He wasn’t even registering Starscream talking to him, he was full of nothing but heavy lust and longing right now.   He glanced down and saw his swollen spike, jutting out shamefully from his groin and leaking pale, silvery transfluid in copious small spurts.

            “Why don’t you enjoy my fingers for just a little bit longer?”  Starscream laughed softly, leaning up against Leozak and kept thrusting his cloth-covered fingers from his right servo, then reached around with his left and began stroking his subordinate’s fully-pressurized spike.   “You’re _really_ raring to go tonight, my little lion.   Why don’t you overload for me, just once, before I give you what you truly want, _mmm_?”  The former Decepticon murmured in Leozak’s audial.

            “Yes, my lord…………” the teal-and-white mech whimpered, still trying to rock his hips gently as Starscream’s fingers thrust hard into his aft opening and the other servo squeezed and stroked his spike roughly.   He didn’t know when he surrendered to the pleasure, but it made him blind and limp beneath Starscream’s frame when he overloaded and shot transfluid all over the wall in front of him.   The next thing he knew, his wet frame was on the floor of the washrack and he stared up at Starscream.   The light from the ceiling seemed to make a halo around the Destron Commander.

            _An angelic devil………….a devilish god._

            **_His god—his lord and master and ruler._**

            The blue-and-red mech grinned, showing sharpened incisor dentae as he knelt, and yanked Leozak’s legs apart, pushing him up a little to reveal the thoroughly-prepared aft opening.   Leozak saw the large and deeply grooved spike jutting from his commander’s groin, the crimson biolights on the underside like a beacon for his own desire to suddenly spiral higher.   His own spike began to harden again and he moaned deeply, reaching down to stroke himself and felt the mild heat of his spike’s yellow biolights pulsing against the tips of his fingers.

            “ _Please frag me, my lord…………please, oh please frag me!_ ”  Leozak cried, desperately.

            “Of course, my little lion,” Starscream purred, ramming his spike in hard and deep, then he began laughing madly as he conquered his subordinate’s frame as easily as he had done every time previous to this.

            _Sometimes_ Leozak ached for more to his life, something new, something different, to break his chains of servitude.

            _But today was **not** one of those days_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Leozak is like the total opposite of Leozak from "Transformers: Victory". XD
> 
> And I just seriously cannot call them the "Breastforce". I just can't. XD


	4. Execution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream vs. Deszaras...........rushing to a climactic ending and leading into "Burn Brightly".

_ Chapter Four:  Execution _

 

            **[Soundwave—I really appreciate you coming along with us back out to the frontier,]** Deszaras said via comm-link, bringing up his sword to block Starscream’s.  **[But I hadn’t intended for this to become a heavy combat situation.   Keep sending out messages to the other planets—warn them to hide as best as they can!   When Saber contacts you again, have him stay with you on the _Thunder Arrow_ and move to a safer location out there.]**

            “Deadlock— _get your aft moving_!   Those we came to rescue are _more important_ than you slicing up a few Destrons!”   The commander of the Thunder Arrow snapped aloud, glancing over at his partner and former subordinate.

            “ ** _Nnngh_**!”   The grey-colored mech growled, swiveling and making sure he was directly in front of the group of three Decepticons and two Autobots, so that Liokaiser couldn’t get any closer to them.   “ _That’s………….no easy task, Des_!”   He snarled back, firing both his massive concussion rifles up at the massive gestalt.

            “ _Sixshot_ —lay out some cover fire for Deadlock and the refugees!”   The large blue-and-silver mech ordered.   “ _Bruticus!_    I need you to take on the gestalt— _can you do that_?!”   He called loudly over to the borrowed Decepticon warriors that Galvatron gave him when they went back out to the frontier.

            “Bruticus will do,” the Combaticon gestalt grumbled, stomping forwards to enter combat with the colorful Destron gestalt.

            “You could always come and _join me_ , Deszaras—you’re **_legendary_** amongst the Decepticons, I’d had no idea you were still alive!”   Starscream said, admiringly.  He drew his sword back and entered another sweeping pattern with it to try and get the Decepticon unit commander off-balance.

            “Not hardly,” Deszaras chuckled, keeping up easily with Starscream’s clumsy sword-work.   Star Saber had far more skill than the commander of these ridiculous Destrons.   “So, you’ve decided to _kill_ all you can’t convert, is that it, Starscream?”   He snapped.

            A very dark look crossed the red-and-blue mech’s faceplate.

            “You’ve become _worse than Megatron_ ,” the silver-and-blue mech growled.   “In your Spark, you too are clinging to a war that is long since finished.   At least Galvatron has come to see the benefits of a time without conflict with the Autobots—he’s focused himself and his military on other places, other campaigns, to truly fulfill the dream of a Decepticon Empire.”

            “He _must_ be becoming stagnant if he’s let you have _the Combaticons_ ,” Starscream snorted, his sword clashing and clanging against Deszaras’ loudly.   “ ** _I_** created them, you know?   At least their bodies the way they are now, as a gestalt and a team.   They were just imprisoned Sparks and brain modules—a bunch of thieves and louts.”

            “And still, rather than creating things—you would much prefer to destroy them,” Deszaras, snapped.

            Starscream frowned, deeply, pressing his strength against the much bigger and bulkier mech’s.    He’d come out to the frontier to try and win more Decepticons to his cause himself—and to kill a few Autobots in the process.   But once he’d been defied by a couple of Decepticons, he’d had them executed while he watched and suddenly a great desire to keep killing things suffused him—it almost felt as if it eased the Spark-deep pain inside of him.   Even if the ones he’d met afterwards were merely wavering one way or another, he was ready to kill them on sight anyways.

            They’d all been riled up by Hot Rod and his message sent out— _about coming home_.   So, now Starscream felt he was in a race to build his army—against more soldiers going over to Galvatron or the Autobots.   The Destron Commander had underestimated the flame-colored mech’s charisma and his winning words…………..he’d thought Hot Rod was merely a little brat of an Autobot that Galvatron took to berth on a whim.   He admitted, the lithe little mech’s frame was quite pleasing to frag, **_but_** …….

            **_No_**.   The Autobot Matrix of Leadership had _clearly_ chosen Hot Rod to bear it for a reason.   And Starscream not only overlooked that fact, but he’d _underestimated it_ as well.   It was no wonder the Decepticons and Galvatron had been won over by the little flame-colored mech, there was **_something_** about Hot Rod that just drew everyone to him.   And it didn’t seem to matter what brand you were wearing, either—Hot Rod could win Autobots and he could even win over even the most ruthless and most lunatic of all Decepticons.   He could even win the squishy little hearts of fleshlings……..as was obvious by how the universal talk shows the flame-colored mech had been on, they all practically fawned and gushed over him.

            Deszaras— _one of the most ruthless strike force commanders of the Decepticons_ —sent out ages ago to claim and conquer the frontier.   Even **_he_** surrendered to whatever charisma that little Hot Rod had—he was suddenly out here doing the dirty work that the little flame-colored mech had started!

            “Perhaps you’re right, but wasn’t _that_ Megatron’s way as well?   He taught me _everything_ , once he’d had me broken by the Robo-Smasher,” Starscream said, coolly, pulling back and sheathing his sword.   “ _What you cannot conquer, you must ensure no longer exists—leave nothing standing to get in your way later on_.”

            Deszaras kept his sword drawn and kept his senses all active, this was not right.   Starscream was not surrendering, but he had stopped attacking as well.   Something was very, _very_ wrong here…….

            “And Megatron’s way kept us locked in a war that drained us all,” Deszaras snapped back.   “We’re all free now, Starscream.   But _you_ want to put us right back into death and misery!”

            “But it’s what we were created for— _the Decepticons anyways_.   We’re just machines for war!   We _can’t_ be anything else without a war to wage and enemies to fight!”   Starscream yelled back, angrily.   “Even Galvatron understands _that_ much!”

            **[Des!   Are you sure you don’t need my help down there?!]**   Star Saber’s familiar voice rang in his audials.

            **[I’m fine.   But Starscream’s gearing up for something big,]** Deszaras reported, making sure he did not become distracted and took his optics off of Starscream.

            _[I’ve got reinforcements!   I’ve got a utility gestalt team and a group of fighters ready to go!]_   Star Saber whined, the tone in his voice showing that he was clearly aching to go into battle.

            **[Saber.   Then leave the fighters with Soundwave— _nothing must happen to him, do you understand me_?   Bring the gestalt team you’ve got and yourself down here.   Starscream’s numbers are low, but his fighters are fierce,]** Deszaras snapped over the comm-link.

            “I was always impressed by you, Deszaras—able to keep your head in combat even as you relay orders via glyphs or communiques.   Though to use a communique means that person is fairly close by and you’re Spark-bonded to them—unless it’s Soundwave you’re talking to,” Starscream chuckled.   “Oh my— _is Soundwave here_?   I should go say _‘hi’_ to him………..greet him properly right before I run him through with my blade!”   The blue-and-red mech snarled, backing into a ready stance and raised his arms to aim his wrist guns at the older blue-and-silver mech.

            All of the sudden a massive blade slammed into the ground right in front of Starscream, throwing him off of his aim, followed swiftly by a huge frame that scooped up the sword and had it at the Destron Commander’s neck cables in an instant.

            “I believe we’ve never met in person, but I’m well aware of your reputation, Starscream,” the massive blue-white-red mech snapped.   “I should cringe at someone who shares _even a syllable_ of my name.   _Star Saber, Autobot—now back down!_ ”   The old Autobot hero snarled, pushing the point of his blade against the neck cables and made a pinprick wound.

            “So, _you_ are the legendary Star Saber,” Starscream says, a cool tone in his vocalizer.   “Admittedly, you _are_ an impressive bot.”

            “Back down and call off your minions,” the bulky blue-red-white mech snarled, pressing the tip harder into the enemy’s neck cabling.

            “ _Hardly_.   Not when I’m **_winning_** ,” the Destron Commander laughed.

            “ _Winning?_    How are you winning?   As I look at the field, your troops are getting run ragged,” Deszaras said, approaching Star Saber’s side and watching Starscream carefully.

            “Every single Decepticon and Autobot I eliminate _cannot_ stand in a future battle against me,” Starscream chuckled, grinning at the two mechs.   “You _can’t possibly_ find and protect them all before I kill more of them—or convert them to my cause.   I’m whittling the numbers down before the great battles of the war even start!”

            Star Saber’s fury peaked—as an Autobot, he couldn’t bear the thought of Starscream or his army destroying _any kind of life_ …………Autobot, Decepticon or otherwise!   He was ready to slice off Starscream’s head and could do it quite easily, too, but then _he’d_ be no better than Starscream was.   Star Saber gave a roar of fury and kicked Starscream in the chest, knocking him about a yard away.

            Starscream merely laughed madly as he rose to his feet and wiped a trickle of purple-pink blood from his mouth—there was _something_ knocked about internally, he’ll have to have Raj-ur-Malekk fix it when he got back to base.    The Destron Commander ordered a retreat and all of the Destron army followed back to the Shadowstalker.

            “ _Why’d you let them go?!   You should have **eliminated** Starscream!_”   Deadlock snarled, about to beat on Star Saber’s chest with fury.

            Deszaras grabbed him by a piece of his armour on his back and held him still.   “Easy there, you’re still running on battlefield protocols,” the commander murmured.   “That’s _not_ the important thing here—the fact that Starscream is killing all he can’t convert is what’s important.   That means _our task_ out here has gotten that much harder.   And _everyone with us_ needs to be warned—and _everyone waiting for us_ needs to be warned,” the silver-and-blue mech said, quietly.

            Just about then, everyone who’d been on the battlefield had gathered around Deszaras and his companions from the _Thunder Arrow_.   The Decepticon field commander carefully explained the situation.   He asked Onslaught and the other Combaticons to take the vessels with the people they’d already rescued back to Chaar and to explain the situation to Galvatron and Hot Rod.   He and some others would remain with the _Thunder Arrow_ and keep rescuing as many as they could.   The _Thunder Arrow_ could hold hundreds of troops, so they would be fine until reinforcements arrived.

            “Remember, a lot of us are _still_ Decepticons—and though we may be tired of constant combat, it’s still _in our programming_ ,” Deszaras said to them all.   “And the Autobots out here on the frontier are just like us—tired and ready to not fight for a while—but to get past Starscream and his dark machinations, _we all need to work together and fight together_.”

            The Autobots who were among the refugees they were saving all nodded at Deszaras’ words.

            “We aren’t **_just_** _Autobots_ and we’re **_not just_** _Decepticons_ , not anymore…………we are _Cybertronians— **Transformers**_ ,” the Decepticon strike force commander continued.   “We wear our brands for camaraderie now and not separation.   _Together_ we shall one day defeat Starscream and his so-called _‘Destron Army’_ and work harder towards that full-time peace we all long for!”

            “ ** _For Cybertron!   Forever!_** ”   Everyone cried, raising their fists into the air, as a gesture of solidarity.

            Deszaras smiled at his companions.   He was going to try very hard to rescue as many as he could before Starscream’s forces could get back out here and corrupt or kill more Cybertronians.   For now, he knew that Starscream would go back to his base, wherever it was and lick his wounds—and try to plan a better way to go about seeking Decepticons (and Autobots) on the frontier worlds with a minimal amount of conflict.    That meant he and the crew of the _Thunder Arrow_ had a little bit of time to find more refugees………….at least a little bit more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter--the final one will be longer, drawing in all the threads of setup for "Burn Brightly". :)


	5. Encouragement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galvatron and Hot Rod talk about the Starscream situation and............do something that you can probably guess at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was "iced in" today by last night's "thunder ice" storm thing. I felt bad calling in to work, but as someone using public transportation, trying to get to the bus stop may have killed me with an inch or so of ice/hail/sleet on the ground. *sigh*
> 
> Hey, but I was able to finish this! Bonus! :D

_ Chapter Five:  Encouragement _

 

            “Prime—I have news to share with you from Onslaught,” Galvatron said loudly as he stomped into the open doorway of Hot Rod’s office in the embassy.

            “ ** _Stop!_**    Wait _right there_ , Galvatron!”  Hot Rod laughed, holding up a hand as he got up from the desk.   “I said, _stop_!   Don’t you understand what the word _‘stop’_ means?!”   The flame-colored mech snapped as he saw Galvatron take a few more steps towards the desk.

            Galvatron gave a sharp snort before grinning devilishly.  “Now _that_ may depend on where we are at when you say _‘stop’_ ………..” he trailed off, his voice going lower with a much more seductive tone.   But he stopped where he was and folded his arms across his chest as he watched his little lover bend down and pick up Stormbreaker, then walked around the desk to stop a few feet in front of Galvatron.

            _This_ puzzled Galvatron immensely.

            Hot Rod knelt down and set Stormbreaker on the floor next to him.    “Look Storm, it’s your sire, can you say _‘hi’_ to him?”  Hot Rod said, encouragingly.

            The little femme batted her tiny servos on the floor next to her for a few seconds and then raised one arm to wave a servo at Galvatron, though it was more like one of her “ _grabby hands_ ” motions than an actual wave.   “ _Swah!_ ”   She cried proudly, looking up at him.

            “ ** _That_** hardly qualifies as _‘hello’_ , Prime,” Galvatron chuckled.

            “No, she **_said_** _‘sire’_ ,” Hot Rod pouted, glaring up at the powerful Decepticon Leader, as if he were too dumb to comprehend clearly spoken words.  

            “Really?   I am afraid I do not _‘speak sparkling’_ , my little Prime,” the bulky purple mech said, roaring with laughter.

            “ _Oh fine!_    But this next part is _even better_ ,” Hot Rod said, determinedly.   “Storm, can you stand up and try to walk over to your sire?”  The flame-colored mech murmured, softly.   “Here, you can have a few fingers to hold on to for balance……..” he said, offering his servo to his little femmeling.

            It took a few aborted attempts and closer to five minutes than something any quicker than that, but Stormbreaker pulled herself to her small pedes, grabbing onto two of Hot Rod’s fingers with one of her servos.   Galvatron’s arms unfolded and he began watching with intense interest and excitement.   Hot Rod had to practically crawl alongside of her……but still holding onto his fingers, the femmeling took wobbly and shaky steps on her pedes, but managed to make it all the way over to where Galvatron was standing, _two whole feet away_.

            Galvatron bent and grabbed her by the back of her neck instantly, propping her into the crook of his arm as he grinned with pleasure.  “ _Very well done_ , my little Stormbreaker!”   The powerful Decepticon said loudly and proudly.

            “ _Swah!!!_ ”   The femmeling giggled, snuggling into Galvatron’s chest happily.   Then her helm swiveled, looking for Hot Rod.   “ _Cwah!_ ”   She cried, making a grabby hand at him with one of her servos.

            “It is my assumption that the second word means _‘carrier’_ , then?”  Galvatron chuckled, when Hot Rod came close and snuggled against his lover and child fondly.

            “Yup,” Hot Rod murmured, both he and his femmeling leaned their helms happily against Galavtron’s broad chestplate.

            “As pleasant as all this is—and under many circumstances I would be truly celebrating such an accomplishment of my second spawn—except the news Onslaught gave to me is quite disturbing indeed,” Galvatron said, his vocalizer going several tones deeper with seriousness.

            Hot Rod pulled away and looked up into Galvatron’s faceplate.   Galvatron wanted to speak to him of matters that a sparkling definitely should not hear yet—and they were not things merely for adults to speak of or do with each other, they were things for two warriors to speak of.

            The growing war with Starscream’s Destron Army.

            “Let me call Slipstream to babysit Storm while we talk,” Hot Rod said, pushing himself away from Galvatron’s familiar frame and walked over to his desk.   He knelt on the floor to pick up Stormbreaker’s couple of toys and put them in the little tote he had on the edge of the desk.   While he did so, he sent a glyph to the Decepticon femme and asked her to come to the office.   “Storm really likes Slipstream, so I think it’ll be fine for a couple hours for them both.   She’s _almost_ ready for a fuel cup, I’ve tried a couple times since we got back and she’ll drink a little bit from it, but still would rather have my fuel port instead.   Hook also confirms I might be right with her having a growth spurt pretty soon.”   Hot Rod also walked around the room and picked up Stormbreaker’s little plush pink blanket from a nearby chair and threw it in the tote.   “But if Slipstream says she’s getting fussy, I may have to duck out of our conversation for a few minutes.”

            “Understood,” Galvatron said, nodding down at Hot Rod.   He gave a polite nod to the former Decepticon Hunter as she entered the office.   “Take care of my Stormbreaker,” he said to her, plucking the femmeling out of the crook of his arm by the gentle neck grip and placed her in Slipstream’s arms.

            “ _Swah!_ ”  Stormbreaker said, a pouting tone in her vocalizer.

            “I am _very proud_ of you, my Stormbreaker.   But it is very important that your carrier and I speak privately,” Galvatron murmured, reaching over to rub the tiny helm gently.   She grabbed one of his fingers and held on tight, repeating “ _swah_ ” several times, before she finally understood all the pouting in the world wasn’t going to get her back into Galvatron’s arms right now.   “You will have plenty of time to speak sparkling words to me and cling to my chestplate later on, little one,” the Decepticon Leader added, once she let go of his finger and then stuck her servo in her mouth, staring at her sire sadly.

            Hot Rod picked the tote up off of his desk and handed it to Slipstream.   “Her toys and blanket are in here.   It might be good to get her into a nap-cycle at some point.  I don’t know how long our talk will last—and knowing the way things go, there will be more than talking afterwards, so if you could get me about a good four hours of freedom, it’d be great,” the flame-colored mech chuckled warmly.

            “I’ll try my best, but call if she gets too fussy, right?   Should I try to get her to drink from a fuel cup?”  Slipstream asked, smiling down at Hot Rod and bouncing the femmeling in her arms.   “Maybe if I show her that everyone fuels in the cafeteria, she might try a little harder with that fuel cup?”   She asked, tilting her head gently.

            “You never know, she _might_ , especially if Nova’s there fueling, too,” Hot Rod answered with a big grin.   “Hook gave me fuel additive for sparklings, like when we got Nova weaned ages back, so that should be in the kitchen with the regular fuel cans.   The pretty pink fuel cup I got her, with a kitty on it, should be down there, too.”

            “Got it,” the Decepticon femme answered.   “Good luck.  _Either way_ ,” she said softly, giving a sly little smile down at Hot Rod.

            Hot Rod set the door to closed and locked, then walked back over towards his desk and saw that Galvatron had already claimed the chair that was in front of it.   He would’ve really liked to have snuggled up in the Decepticon Leader’s lap to talk, but it would be inappropriate given the conversation they were about to have—so he compromised by hopping up and sitting on the edge of the front of his desk, that way he didn’t have an entire desk separating him from his powerful lover.

            “I suppose I should not complain about the pleasant view,” Galvatron chuckled softly.

            “Maybe you can view even more later?”  Hot Rod said, his vocalizer going a little bit lower in tone as he teased gently.

            “ _Later_.   **_For certain_** ,” the bulky purple mech responded with a deep sigh.   He handed his little lover the datapad he’d brought with him, Hot Rod swiped and scrolled through screens.   Galvatron noticed the look of pain that crossed the flame-colored mech’s faceplate and words Cyclonus said many years ago came back to him:

 

            _“The Prime is distressed by the threats of death and destruction towards others, my lord.”_

 

            Hot Rod’s concern with all life was a thing Galvatron would **_not_** change about his little lover—after all, _that_ is something that brought them together.   They worked together in a desert on some strange world, so many years ago, because Rodimus Prime cared about Galvatron’s health and existence.   The Decepticon Leader simply wished it would not add to all of the flame-colored mech’s _other_ stress issues.

            “I _should_ say I can’t believe Starscream’s doing this…………..but I absolutely can.  I _know_ he is capable of doing this,” Hot Rod whispered, softly, handing the datapad back to the Decepticon Leader.   “I **_hate it_** , Galvatron—I _hate_ that Starscream would go and do this, but………..I know it’s what Megatron did for so long.   And for as much as Starscream claims he hates Megatron—everything he’s done is everything that Megatron taught him.”

            “Did _you_ know my former self?”   Galvatron asked, curiously.

            “ _A bit_.   Not well, though,” the flame-colored mech answered.   “He truly was _a tyrant_.   He preferred to dominate and rule—and destroy whatever he couldn’t,” he murmured, kicking the backs of his pedes lightly against his desk.   He felt a little awkward to be talking to Galvatron about the mech he once was.   “But _you’re_ different, Galvatron.   _You_ ……..”

            “Those were things **_I_** wanted, as well.   Before you came into my life,” Galvatron said.

            “ _I don’t want you to change, Galvatron_.   I don’t want the Decepticons to think I’ve horribly corrupted and softened their leader.  **_I don’t want that_**!”  Hot Rod cried, anxiously.

            Galvatron stood up and walked over to Hot Rod, looming over the smaller mech, and cupped his chin roughly.   “What I wanted then is defined quite differently than what I want now.   What _you_ showed me was what I _truly wanted_ and what I once thought I could _only_ acquire by destroying everything around me,” he said, firmly, staring down into the flame-colored mech’s blue optic glass.   “If I built my empire on the broken and dead frames of my own army—then what kind of empire have I forged in the end?”  He said, posing the question to his younger lover very seriously.   “Clearly this Megatron cared not about how his empire was forged.   But what would he have to rule over if everyone he commanded were broken beneath his boots?”  Galvatron continued, staring seriously down into his lover’s optics.

            Then the Decepticon Leader pulled away and sat back down in the chair, smiling up at Hot Rod.

            “ _This is what you have taught me_.   To have an empire at all means I _must_ have subjects to rule,” he said, firmly.   “If I killed them all in the forging of my empire, then all I have left are buildings that would crumble and turn to dust.   I would only have money that would be squandered in pointless frivolity.   And I would have an endless stream of lovers who would eventually become the broken ones at my pedes as well.”

            Hot Rod swallowed a deep incycle of air and gazed longingly at Galvatron.   All these years had passed between them and everything he’d tried to show Galvatron—it seemed the powerful war machine had truly learned something!

            “I can tell you this in many ways and perhaps one day you will understand just how important you are to me, Hot Rod,” Galvatron said, his voice firm and resonant.   “Perhaps what Starscream needs is to find someone of your incredible caliber to educate him upon all these matters.   But he _cannot_ have you.   **_You are mine_**.   _Forever_.”

            “I………..I know we’re supposed to be having a mini war council right now……..” Hot Rod stammered, a bit worried by his own burning desires swirling within him right now.   “But holy Primus…………..hearing you talk to me like this makes me incredibly horny.”

            Galvatron roared with laughter, shooting to his pedes and looming over Hot Rod again.   “ _Mmmm_.   I believe at some other time in the past, we were going to try and see how much weight this desk of yours could hold,” he chuckled, planting a servo firmly over the Autobot brand on the flame-colored mech’s chest and pushed him back flat onto the desk.   “ ** _No_**.  Do _not_ open your panels yet, you foolish little Prime,” he purred as he reached his other servo down to stroke the groinplating of his little lover.

            “ _Primus!_    You seriously know how to light my fire, Galvatron!”  Hot Rod groaned deeply, his back arching a little, which made his groin press into the Decepticon Leader’s servos even more.

            “Of course I do, my Prime.   I can _easily_ stoke that fire into an inferno,” the bulky purple mech chuckled, flicking his wrist and making a pair of handcuffs appear from a subspace pocket.   They looked amazingly sturdy and shiny, as though they’d never been used.

            Hot Rod swept his glossa wetly over his lips, feeling heat and moisture gathering behind his valveplating.   His optics followed Galvatron as the Decepticon walked around the desk and lost sight of what he was doing with the cuffs, he just knew he was looking up at a familiar broad chest and the red-colored version of the Decepticon emblem on the deep purple chestplating.   But Hot Rod could hear a rattle and scrape of metal and assumed that Galvatron had probably wrapped the centerchain through one of the handles of his desk, maybe?

            Then the flame-colored mech heard the soft snap of the cuffs as they were placed around his wrists—binding his servos close to the drawer handle, so that his arms were up over his head.   Hot Rod wiggled his servos a little to see how much give there was—and was pleased ( _and aroused even more!_ ) to find there was very little give to the binding.   Well, _that_ was Galvatron right there—he knew exactly how to handle his bondage elements!

            The Emperor of the Decepticons walked back over to the other side of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, then raised a servo to cup his chin contemplatively as he eyed his handiwork so far.  He leaned down and reached into a subspace pocket by his boot to pull out one very sturdy, and very long, length of steel cabling.  He knelt and swept the cabling into a loop around the bottom feet of the desk and tugged it up taut, holding it high enough for Hot Rod to see the lengths of the ends of the cabling.

            “Now, you asked Slipstream for _‘four good hours’_ , did you not?”   Galvatron chuckled, grinning down at Hot Rod and showing sharp incisor dentae.   “I do hope that my Stormbreaker will be kind to her sire and give us those four hours.   For it has been a long time since we have properly done any kind of bondage interfacing and Cyclonus has insisted on keeping me refreshed on what is proper and what is not.”

            “ _Thank you, Cyclonus_ ,” Hot Rod breathed reverently.

            “But if my little femmeling becomes fussy and you _must_ go, I can cut the cabling quick and break the handcuffs fast for you as well,” Galvatron responded.   “Now, are you ready for a bit more preparation work?”   He asked, teasingly.

            “Ready when you are, my Emperor!”  Hot Rod gushed, gazing at his lover with so much longing.   It was taking nearly all his concentration to keep his interface array from opening up right now.

            “Spread your legs as wide as you can, my sexy little Prime,” the Decepticon Leader said with a light chuckle.

            Hot Rod planted his pedes firmly on the desk, spreading his legs wide and leaving his pedes closer to the two front corners of the desk.   Galvatron very carefully and very firmly wound the ends of the cabling around the boots, right above the pedes, knotting them tightly.   Hot Rod tested the give in the cabling and there was very little, if any.   Spread like this, with his servos bound, Hot Rod could not reach for, grab for, or clutch at Galvatron in any way whatsoever.   So, his pleasure would be given only at Galvatron’s whims—he had only his voice to urge his lover on.

            “ _Ah_ , now **_this_** is truly a glorious sight to behold!”  Galvatron chuckled, gazing down at the spread wide and submissive flame-colored mech on the desk.   “I suppose you are already quite appreciatively wet?”   He asked, tilting his head as he crossed his arms over his chest.

            “I……….I can _show you_ …….” Hot Rod murmured, moving his head up off the desk just enough to see Galvatron’s faceplate.   “ _Let me show you, my lord, **please**_ ……?”  He whispered, desperately.

            Galvatron roared with laughter, planting a servo on the desk near his little lover’s hip and grinned wolfishly down at him.   “Very well, open your interface array—allow me to see how much you appreciate my attention,” he purred, devilishly, hefting himself back up and standing back with his arms crossed to watch his lover show him everything.

            Hot Rod shuttered his optics and sent the command to his array, the paneling sliding open very fast with a soft cracking metallic sound to announce it.   Not only could Galvatron see how wet the mesh folds of the valve were, leaking a puddle of lubrication fluid already onto the desk, but the spike came out, pressurizing instantly.   With the legs spread as wide as they were, the mesh folds of the valve lips were parted and open just enough to show Galvatron the interior of the valve.   Biolights blinked and flickered in the heated wet haze inside of the valve.

            “ _A pleasant display, indeed._    I see your spike as well, you must truly be expecting something good, are you not?”  Galvatron teased, once again leaning over Hot Rod and planting a servo by the flame-colored mech’s hip on the desk.   “Do you wish for me to touch your spike, Hot Rod?”  He whispered, lustfully, leaning close to bring the words only to the range of his little lover’s audial directly.

            Hearing Galvatron say his name with that oh-so-sexy purr in his vocalizer drove Hot Rod crazy.  He couldn’t move, so his frame only trembled and fresh lubricant leaked out of his valve, leaving an even larger puddle on his desk.

            “ _That’d_ ………..that’d be awesome…………but I want……….. _I want what you want_ , my lord………” the flame-colored mech panted, shamelessly.   His field flared out wildly, but was trapped by Galvatron’s own powerful EM field.   And thank goodness for **_that_** , that Galvatron was so good with his field when it came to covering Hot Rod’s shameless lust and desire—it would be too embarrassing for the entire embassy to feel exactly what was going on right now, especially for his own offspring to feel Hot Rod’s shameless lust rippling out all over the place.

            Galvatron might have a powerful field, but he could keep his emotions out of it, therefore it was effortless to just bring Hot Rod’s lust into the neutrality of his powerful, always-present field.   To Hot Rod, having even his field emotions bound up just added to the sense of sexual bondage going on right now and made him ache for overload.

            “Then touch your spike, I shall,” Galvatron purred softly.   He pushed himself back up and held his weight on a servo, but still leaned over Hot Rod a little, reaching his free servo down to scrape his fingers hard on the transfluid pressure line of his little lover’s rigid spike.   The orange biolights glowed fiercely, no longer a pulsing rhythm up its length, and sent a light heat to the pads of Galvatron’s fingers.   The Decepticon Leader let his fingers trace light grooves and ridging on the solid grey spike, the tips of his claws hooking lightly in the small grooves and ridges and teasing sharp little cries out of Hot Rod’s vocalizer.

            A thick spurt of pre-transfluid ejaculated from the tip of the flame-colored mech’s spike and Hot Rod trembled with a longing to overload completely.

            “I cannot tease you overlong, can I?” Galvatron said, standing up straight and looking down at the little Autobot, his servos resting lightly on the spread legs’ knee-joints.   “I suppose it has been a few weeks and you are not used to going so long without my spike in your valve, this I know.”

            “At………. _at your whim_ …………my lord………….” Hot Rod whimpered, achingly.   “ _Not mine_ ……..” he whispered, desperately.

            “Well, _my whim_ is to frag you senseless—so, I suppose it all works out for the both of us in the end, does it not?”  The Decepticon Leader chuckled, moving forwards to plant both his servos by both of Hot Rod’s hips on the desk.   He let his spike pressurize with a soft snap and hiss and then rubbed it teasingly against the wet mesh of the trembling valve lips.

            The lubricant covered the full length of his black spike quickly and the valve just kept producing more of it.   As Galvatron rubbed his length a bit more along the soaked mesh lips, the lubricant seeped into his deep grooves and ridges, getting his spike fully wet for an extremely easy penetration.

            “ _Ah, my lord…………I want your spike so badly_ ……….” Hot Rod panted, his whole body trembling as he ached with a deep and powerful longing for overload.

            Galvatron leaned forwards more and gripped the edges of the desk above Hot Rod’s head.   Then he pulled his hips back and placed the tip of his spike against the wet opening and thrust in hard.   The flame-colored mech mewled and cried beneath him, as his frame was pounded by a larger one that he craved with all of his Spark.   The Decepticon Leader felt his little lover’s valve spiraling tighter around him as the calipers rippled along his length—begging for this invasion to reach it’s highly coveted climax.

            For as much as he teased Hot Rod about how the little Autobot’s valve craved his spike—Galvatron had to admit, _he_ very much enjoyed the feel of his little lover’s valve, too.   He gripped the edge of the desk harder and felt it begin to fold in his powerful servos.   As he pounded his spike harder and faster into the wet valve, he could hear the wet sounds of their coupling, as well as the groaning stress of the desk being thoroughly tested for its weight bearing.   Galvatron could only hope the desk could hold out for a few more moments, because they were both _almost there_.

            Then Hot Rod screamed with ecstasy, arching as much as he could with his bound position to the desk.   His overload released vast charges, rippling like flame-colored lightning all over his frame, as heavy spurts of transfluid hit both his and Galvatron’s chestplating in the ejaculation.   Galvatron grunted heavily as he allowed himself to overload, as well, filling the tightly clenching valve to overflow with his own transfluid, charges of a pale crimson rippling over his frame and meeting the flame-colored lightning of his lover’s, flaring into sparks that exploded and left scattered raindrops of burn marks on both their frames.

            “ _Holy Primus, **that** was fantastic_,” Hot Rod moaned, arching his back as Galvatron unwrapped the cabling from his legs.   He watched his lover walk around and unfasten the handcuffs.   The Decepticon Leader dropped both items into Hot Rod’s desk chair and pulled the flame-colored mech into his arms.

            _Right before the desk collapsed, broken into about three large pieces._

            Galvatron roared with laughter as Hot Rod began laughing with him.   Clearly the desk was **_not_** able to hold up to a frag session!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking a short break from this series, to focus on the outlining for the next work, "Burn Brightly". It's going to be great and epic and I want to make sure of that. :D
> 
> In the meantime, I will likely finish the next "The Love of Romance" (Megatron/Rodimus--IDW universe) story and episode twenty-three of "Star Voyager". :)

**Author's Note:**

> *More tags to be added as I further the chapters. :)


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